The Eyes of Notre Dame
by Evie Grey
Summary: 21 years before Quasimodo and Esmeralda, before Frodo succumbed to his hate for Gypsies, before the Court of Miracles...there were two sisters who would set history in motion.  Prequel to the movie


A.N. : This is set 21 years before Hunchback. All of the characters and locations were created by Victor Hugo and Disney. I take ownership only of Aleera & Sorcha and the main plot idea. I really hope you enjoy it! xx-EG

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The sunlight bounced off the waters of the Seine as two sisters walked along the streets of Paris for the first time. Aleera, the older of the two squinted in the spring sunlight. Her feet ached from walking. Her shoes had fallen apart before they'd even made it to France, and people were reluctant to help a gypsy.

"Your turn." her sister, Sorcha, said, pausing to take off her own shoes to let Aleera use for a while. Sorcha and Aleera had been sharing the one pair of worn sandals. As Aleera bent forward to slide her feet into the shoes her long red hair fell into her face. Sorcha tossed her own raven hair over her shoulder and smiled at her sister.

Aleera and Sorcha were only half-sisters, sharing the same Highlander father. Their mothers had both been gypsies, though the girls closer resembled their father. They shared the same fair skin laced with a golden gypsy glow. Their eyes were a bright, vivid green. Both girls were of decent height and had a slender build to them.

Aleera took after their father much more fiercely than Sorcha. Her hair was long, flaming red, her hips were narrow and her temper was as short as any Highlander. Sorcha was softer and a tad curvier than her sister. Her dark hair had more of a gentle curl in contrast to her fair skin. Sorcha was less than a year younger than Aleera and the two had been raised together all of their lives.

The girls turned a corner and heard cheering and laughter in the distance along with the faint sounds of music. Sorcha tucked an errant hair behind her ear and frowned.

"You're sure Louis got your letter?" she asked. Aleera shrugged.

"Well, I received a response that was signed by a Louis. I'm going to assume it was the same one I wrote to." she said with a hint of sarcasm. Sorcha just rolled her eyes.

"I'm just saying, it's oddly nice for a cousin we've never met to suddenly invite us to come stay with him."

"It's a big city. There's a lot of travelers that pass through. Money to be made. We couldn't pass that up. Don't you want to stop sharing shoes?" Aleera asked as they approached the fringes of the crowd. There was a young man wearing colorful clothes putting on a show for the crowd of peasants. There were two others with him, sitting off to the side playing instruments with a small hat in front of them to collect the coins that were dropped at their feet. The jester-like man was dancing about, telling jokes, making the crowd roar with laughter. If it wasn't obvious enough already, Aleera and Sorcha could hear a few people who passed by complaining about the gypsy 'invasion' that had overtaken the city.

Aleera watched the man fascinated by him and couldn't help but smile and laugh at him. Sorcha tapped her bare foot in time with the beat of the song but didn't dance. She wasn't going to steal their thunder, besides, this was how they made a living. No point in making enemies just yet.

As the gypsies finished their show the crowd began to disperse. Aleera walked up to them. The man in the jester's costume smiled when he saw her and gave her a low bow, sweeping his hat off as he did so.

"My lady. How may I be of service?" he asked.

"I'm looking for a man named Louis." Aleera said. The jester smiled even broader.

"You are in Paris, madame. There are many men named Louis. Could you be a bit more specific?" he asked.

"Well, he's a gypsy." Aleera said defensively.

"I figured." he replied tartly. "Is he your husband?"

"No, he's-"

"You're betrothed?" the jester pressed.

"No-"

"You're lover?" the jester asked, scandalized. Sorcha had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter.

"He's my cousin!" Aleera said, exasperated. "My mother, Mirela is his aunt. He wrote me to come here."

"Well, what does he look like?" the man asked. Aleera straightened her shoulders and tried to look as dignified as she could.

"I don't know. We've never met." she said flatly.

"Does he know what you look like?" the jester asked, becoming exasperated.

"No." Aleera replied stubbornly. The jester threw his hands in the hair.

"How am I supposed to find your cousin when you two won't even recognize each other when you meet? Am I to ask every Louis in Paris if he is expecting the daughter of his Aunt Mirela? Madame, I think you are crazy." he told her. Aleera's face got very red and Sorcha took a step to the side, fearing her sister's temper.

"I don't need your help! I'll find my cousin all on my own. I never asked for your help, uhm…" Aleera trailed off angrily, realizing she didn't have the man's name.

"Clopin." he supplied sweetly, taking her hand and kissing it. "These are my friends. Jacques and Louis."

Aleera's expression went dark as Clopin smiled to himself and his friends laughed.

"In fact Louis is expecting some family to arrive soon, aren't you Louis?" Clopin said around his own laughter. Aleera sighed and shot Sorcha a look as her sister giggled. Louis stepped forward and gave a little bow of introduction.

"Welcome to Paris, cousins. You must be Aleera." he said, stepping forward and hugging the annoyed redhead. "and Sorcha." turning to hug the brunette.

"What a wonderful reunion!" Clopin said, clapping his hands together and wiping away pretend tears. "Shall we go now?" he said abruptly sobering.

Sorcha regarded her cousin carefully.

"You are our actual cousin Louis, right?" she asked. "This isn't some trick?"

"Are you my actual cousin, Sorcha, and not some spy for the Palace of Justice?" Louis asked calmly. Sorcha frowned.

"Palace of what?" she asked, thoroughly confused. Louis shrugged.

"I'll take that as a no."

A couple of soldiers were throwing them questioning looks. Jacques silently picked up their earnings.

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation later." he suggested. The soldiers began to walk towards them. Clopin sighed and looked at the girls.

"Do you run fast?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes." Aleera answered warily.

"Oh, good." Clopin said nodding. "Cause as soon as I say 'go' we're going to run away and I'd like it very much if you kept up with us."

"Excuse me?" Sorcha asked.

"You there! Gypsies!" the guards called.

"Go!' Clopin said, jetting off down an alley. Aleera and Sorcha tore off after the men.

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Sorcha could hear the soldiers running after them and calling for backup. Soon there were going to be too many to run from. When Clopin yelled for them to split up and grabbed Aleera's hand Sorcha swore to herself. Now she was separated from her sister and even though she still had Louis and Jacques with her, it wasn't much of a comfort. She tried hard to keep up with them. Suddenly a soldier appeared in front of her and grabbed her by the arm. Jacques punched him quickly in the face and he and Louis pushed her forward.

"Run towards the bells!" Jacques told her as he and Louis tore off in a different direction.

Sorcha stared wide-eyed at them for a minute. She was alone, running through Paris. Great. Over the tops of the building she saw the cathedral and even with the city sounds and yelling around her she could hear the peal of the bells. Glancing over her shoulder she saw three soldiers chasing her. Her feet flew over the cobblestones and she dodged the peasants who were in her way as she darted for Notre Dame.

She had finally reached the marble steps and was in the doorway when she slammed into a man, knocking onto the floor of the cathedral.

"Sanctuary!" she said with a smile, rolling off of the man without bothering to look at who she'd knocked over, taking a minute to catch her breath. The man, who had cursed when she'd toppled him to the ground righted himself quickly. The cathedral was practically empty expect for the Archdeacon who was lighting a few candles.

"Rude, inconsiderate wretch." the man grumbled. Sorcha stood herself.

"I'm sorry, monsieur. I didn't see you until I was on top of you." Sorcha admitted not sounding very sorry. "Did I hurt you?"

The man glared at her. "No."

"Are you sure? You look like your in pain." Sorcha said, taking careful stock of the man. He was tall, lean and muscular beneath his dark clothing with pale skin, grey eyes and dark hair combed back from his beautiful but severe face.

"I'm fine." he said. "You don't look like a gypsy." he said grudgingly, looking over her. She was almost as pale as he was with a mass of dark hair that skimmed her bare shoulders and exquisite green eyes that sucked him in and made it nigh impossible to look away, but he managed. She may have the face of an angel but there was no mistaking what she was. The hem of her skirt was stained and her bare feet were dirty. She had on a head dress of gold coins that brought out the subtle gold of her skin and bangles on her wrist that jingled softly as she shifted her weight.

"You don't look like a priest." Sorcha said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her gold hoops dangling from her ears. The soldiers came up to the front of the church panting and walked in. Sorcha backed up a few paces.

"We've got you now gypsy." one of them growled. From the dried blood crusting around his nose, she guessed it was the same one Jacques had punched in the face.

"I claimed sanctuary." Sorcha said, taking another step back. "You can't touch me."

"Did you hear her claim 'sanctuary?" the bloody soldier asked his companion who laughed darkly.

"Nope, didn't hear it at all." he replied, taking a menacing step toward her. The man she had knocked over, who had been standing to the side now stepped forward.

"I heard her." he said flatly.

"Judge Frollo, sir." they men said, looking both surprised and a tad sheepish.

"If you want to keep your station I suggest you leave." the Judge said, stepping closer to Sorcha. The soldiers backed out of the church and the Judge sneered at the girl.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked. Sorcha frowned.

"Girl? You don't look that much older than me." she replied stubbornly.

"Your name." the Judge demanded sharply.

"Sorcha." she told him flatly. "And what's yours?"

"Judge Claude Frollo." he told her, taking a step closer to her and locking his eyes with hers. "I have been kind to you this once gypsy. Do not expect such leniency again." he said, sweeping out of the cathedral. Sorcha stared after him, confused an intrigued by the man. She stared even as he disappeared from sight. A whistle from the other end of the cathedral made her glance up. Jacques was waving to her from a doorway. She ran toward him and left Notre Dame with Jacques and Louis to meet up with Clopin and her sister, wherever they were.


End file.
